The Redshirt Diaries
by weebee
Summary: Ranma enters the wrong line. Chaos ensues.
1. Redshirts

Hi, folks. Weebee here again with another one-shot. You know my record for one-shots, so this will either entertain you or send you screaming.

Anyhow, this little fic came, originally, from an idea that Kadunta's been trying to kill for years. Since it wouldn't die, I volunteered to try and kill it.

It's kind of cracky, and a little implausible. A little funny, too, though, maybe.

Anyhow, I'll shut up now. On with the show.

Disclaimer: I do not own Ranma One Half or Star Trek, in any of its forms.

The Red-shirt Diaries. Written by Weebee and Kadunta.

Ranma Saotome's life really sucked. This thought crossed the afore-mentioned martial artist's mind, right after the flashback of his entire life, as he plummeted downward at an accelerated pace. He was pretty sure, at the moment, that he was a dead man. "Train on the Tokyo tower, he said." He muttered, the wind whipping past his face and sweeping his words away. "What could go wrong? He said." The last thing that crossed Ranma Saotome's mind, at least before the pavement, was an oft repeated mantra. 'Stupid ol' man…'

HR.

When Ranma woke up, the most surprising thing was that he'd woken up. The last thing he'd remembered, he'd face-planted into the ground from many stories up, and had been pretty sure he wasn't going to wake up again. The second surprise was that, when he tried to twitch a finger, he felt it respond, along with the rest of his body.

"Oh, you're awake." Came a voice that sounded far too much like his own for his liking. Snapping open his eyes, he saw what looked like a slightly distorted mirror image of himself looking down on him. The other him looked several years older, and his pigtail had been exchanged for a short ponytail.

"Who're you?" Ranma demanded, rolling off the bed and into a defensive stance on the side opposite his double.

"Around here they call me the Doc." The man said, smiling. "I know you're very confused right now. All of us are when we first get here, but everything will be explained soon."

Ranma looked at the Doc, even more confused. "So, um, you fixed me from that fall?" He asked.

The Doc looked sadly back at him. "No, I'm afraid not." He said, evenly. "Ranma… you're dead."

"But I… I feel fine." Ranma objected, looking down at himself. His red Chinese shirt and black pants were perfectly intact, and he didn't have a single injury on his body. "What do you mean I'm dead?"

"I mean, you're dead." The Doc repeated, before seeing the disbelieving look on Ranma's face. Sighing, he started for the door to the small room. "Come on." He said, gesturing.

"Wait, where are you…" Ranma said, before realizing the other wasn't stopping. grumbling, he noted that he was a pretty lousy doctor before quickly following.

When the two exited the room, Ranma saw a plaque next to it. "Ranma #1701."

"1701, what's that mean?" He asked, noting that the Doc had stopped to let him catch up.

"That's your ID number." He explained. "You can change it for a name later if you want. Prime wants to meet you, though."

"Prime?" Ranma asked, his confusion now building to a near explosive point. The Doc didn't answer, once again starting to walk down the hall. The hall was a flat white color, and made of some sort of metal that Ranma couldn't identify. It had white overhead illumination, but looked pretty well antiseptic.

Within a few moments, the two turned down several side halls, and made it to an office. Opening the door, the Doc gestured Ranma inside, where the pigtailed boy stopped in shock at what he saw. In a chair at a small computer sat a dead ringer for his female form, except that she was wearing a set of reading glasses. "Okay, what the HELL is going on here?" He demanded, turning back to the Doc.

The older version of himself just sighed. "We've got a new one here, is he busy?" He asked, ignoring the younger martial artist's outburst.

The female Ranma merely nodded, and hit a button on an intercom on the corner of her desk. "Sir, we have another new one… #1701, I believe." She said, quickly.

"Send him in." A male voice replied, and the woman gestured for Ranma to go through a door on the other side of the office.

Ranma wanted to scream. He wanted to start demanding explanations, or start running. One or the other, but he couldn't decide which. Still, he had no idea where he was, and no idea where to run. Annoyed, he stomped through the door and into another office, this one slightly larger.

Behind a desk sat yet another clone of himself, but by this point he'd expected as much. A nametag on his black suit jacket labeled him as 'Prime,' and he reclined in a comfortable looking black leather chair.

On the wall opposite him was a screen listing some very strange readings. "Ranma #1699, death by Akane's cooking. Ranma #1700, Lost to Ryoga. Ranma #1701, death by sudden impact. Ranma #1702, Spontaneous Human Combustion."

As Ranma opened his mouth, Prime spoke. "I know what you're thinking." He said. "You want to know what the hell's going on here, and why we all look like you."

Ranma just nodded, thinking that he was finally going to get some answers.

"I hate talking about this." Prime muttered, before sighing and starting to explain. "You, quite frankly, give heaven and hell a headache. In fact, almost every Ranma Saotome in the multi-verse does. We're all pretty nice people, or not all that bad, but we tend to cause so much chaos that they can't really let us into heaven." He shrugged.

"So… I'm really… dead?" Ranma asked, shocked. "and what do ya mean multi-verse?"

Yes, Ranma, you're dead." Prime replied. "As for the Multi-verse, it's a term for all of the different realities that exist. For example, in my home reality I ended up marrying Nabiki Tendo, and we began a small business together." He smiled at Ranma's disbelieving stare. "You won't believe how hard martial arts accounting is." He then let out a regretful sigh. "Unfortunately, my Nabiki was a bit of a backstabber, and ended up having me killed for my portion of our stock and my insurance money."

"But, erm, why are you 'n me here, then. Isn't the afterlife supposed ta be a little… different?" Ranma asked, more than a little disturbed by how casually the other version of him talked about getting killed by his own wife.

"This isn't heaven, or hell. This is a sort of specially crafted Purgatory." Prime explained. "It basically houses all of the Ranmas who die, until the people upstairs can figure out what to do with us."

Ranma really wasn't sure about this. He was apparently dead, and in a purgatory, whatever that was, with at least 1700 other versions of himself, if he understood prime's explanation correctly. "And, um, how long am I gunna be here?"

Prime shrugged. "Some of us stay about fifty years. Some of us have been here since the beginning." He explained. "I've been here for eighty, but only because I requested the task of helping manage this place after I got kicked upstairs." Seeing Ranma's confused state, he stood up and walked over to the younger version of himself. He remembered the day that he'd found himself here, and how confusing it was. Even worse, this Ranma, like so many of the others, wasn't nearly as experienced as he had been.

"This place is pretty nice, actually." He confided. "There's always other martial artists to spar with, and some of them have gotten scarily good over the years." He smiled, apparently remembering a particularly good fight. "Oh, and the food's free, too. Tastes almost like Kasumi made it." He stopped for a moment, and thought. "Well, she did, sort of." He muttered, quietly.

"Thanks." Ranma said, uncertainly.

The older version of him patted him on the shoulder, and then took a small piece of paper out of his desk drawer. "Here's a map of the complex. Come and talk to me again if you need any help." Ranma merely nodded, and exited the room in a rather comfortably numb state.

HR.

Over the next few days, Ranma began to explore the 'complex,' as everyone else seemed to call it. The place seemed really surreal. Everywhere he looked, he saw duplicates of himself, all wearing nametags that identified them either by number or name. He'd been told that he could take a name whenever he wanted, but he was Ranma, he already had a name… right? It'd been getting annoying, though, with everyone calling him 1701 all the time.

Also, some of the people here were scary, exemplifying some of his greatest fears and hopes. He'd seen several female versions of himself. No, not just in cursed form, as he'd found out much to his regret that the curse worked even when DEAD, but actual girls, the ones with numbers usually bearing the name 'Ranko' before them instead of 'Ranma.'

He'd also seen one young child who seemed perpetually trapped in the Neko-ken. He learned that that Ranma had been killed by Genma during the Neko-ken training. Versions of him that were forever locked in their cursed forms, and oddly enough, a few male Rankos who he presumed were the other side of that coin.

On the positive side, he'd seen one Ranma, jokingly nicknamed 'Goku' by the others, who had mastered the art to the point that it almost made him want to cry.

Still, he was finding this place's clean, antiseptic lines stifling, and would give nearly anything to see a face other than his or her own.

It was on the third day when he got that wish. He'd been skulking around the darker back areas of the complex, where very few Ranmas ever went. He wasn't sure what he was looking for. An escape? Someone other than himself to talk to? Even a little change of scenery. Scowling, he slumped against one of the doors that lined the back halls. Unlike the ones nearer the center of the complex, these ones didn't have numbers or names, just bright red 'Do Not Enter' signs. The signs were usually a moot issue, though, since they were tightly locked anyways, and he couldn't punch through them. He'd tried.

Strangely, though, this time the door gave with a soft creak. Ranma stumbled, almost falling into the red corridor behind him, and only barely catching himself on the door post. After regaining his balance, he curiously looked into the newly discovered passage. It was slightly darker than the gleaming white corridors he'd been walking through for the past few days, and there was a soft, though not unpleasant, red glow suffusing everything. He glanced at the door, where the usual sign was present, with one below it that read "Redshirt Recycling Center."

Stepping into the hall, Ranma let the door go without thinking and it clicked shut behind him. About half a second later, it Gave another click, that of a computer controlled lock sliding into place.

Whirling, Ranma grabbed the handle and tried to pull the door back open, but it wouldn't come. "Oh, great move, Saotome." He muttered, and turned back around. "Well, I got in here, I can get out." He resolved, and started walking.

HR.

About thirty minutes later, he was not quite as sure about that statement. He turned down yet another red-lit hallway, and noticed that a group of people were running up it. They all wore some form of odd military uniform, mostly black with a bright yellow central portion. They were people other than himself, so he supposed that he'd gotten his wish. "Excuse me…" He asked stopping one, a blonde haired woman with two small gold pips on her collar, in her tracks. "Can you tell me how ta get outta here?"

"Oh, a new guy, huh?" She asked, looking him over. "That's an odd uniform. Come on, I'll take you to fitting and then show you the transporter bays."

"Thanks, I think." Ranma said, uncertainly, as the blonde started walking down the hall.

"I'm Tasha Yar, by the way. Who are you?"

"Saotome Ranma." Ranma replied, falling into step next to her.

"You know how long your stint is supposed to be?" She asked. "I get to be a security officer on the Enterprise for a few months." She frowned. "Get my memory wiped first, because it's a long posting, though."

"I… I don't know." Ranma said, uncertainly.

Yar shrugged. "Oh well, you'll find out when you get to the transporter bays, I suppose."

Ranma just nodded, and the two turned down another corridor labeled 'Clothing and Equipment.'

HR.

Ranma prime reclined in his chair, watching two of the other Ranmas fighting on a small screen on his desk. As he was really getting into the fight, and one of them had actually managed to trick the other into a Hiryu Shoten Ha, however, his intercom buzzed. Annoyed, he reached out and tapped the button. "Yes?" He asked, shortly.

"Prime, sir, it's happened again." His secretary replied. "#1701's gone missing."

Prime grunted in annoyance. "Can you find him?" He asked.

"No, sir. He disappeared near the transfer doors, like the others."

He sighed. "Not again…" This had happened before, usually to the base types of Ranma, the ones who had died during the insanity of Nerima. It took them quite a bit of time to settle in, and occasionally they found ways out before that happened. "Find out who left one of the doors open, and see if we can get him back." He ordered, and turned off the intercom.

Still, he did smile slightly. "Good luck, kid." He muttered.

HR.

Later, Ranma was looking dubiously in the mirror, where he saw his own reflection wearing a uniform similar to Yar's. Instead of the two gold pips on his collar, he wore only one, and the center seemed to be a different color. He had some sort of ray gun held in a holster around his waist. He knew he'd wanted to get out of the repetitiveness of that weird complex, but this didn't seem much better.

Stepping out of the small changing stall he'd put the uniform on in, and tucking his ordinary clothes under his arm, he saw Tasha waiting for him. "Hmm, you look okay." She said. "Here's a comm badge." She held out a hand, revealing a small arrow head like pin, similar to one she had pinned onto her own chest.

"Thanks, I think." Ranma said, bemused, clipping the small object into place on his own shirt. "So, erm, why are we going to be going to these…. Ships?"

Yar shrugged. "We're security officers." She explained. "You are new if you don't know what that means. We protect the ship's senior staff, with our lives if necessary." She frowned. "That's usually pretty necessary, so instead of having to produce new officers every time, they sort of recycle us."

Ranma gulped, not quite liking the sound of that, but Tasha seemed pretty casual about it, so it really couldn't be all that bad. Also, he was already dead. Could things get any worse?

A couple of minutes later, he and Tasha entered a large room with the label "Transporter room 1" written over its entrance. Along one wall was a strange, circular platform, creating a slight indent into the wall in order to make room for itself, and along the other was a console with a sleepy looking man in a different, red uniform standing at it.

"Hi, Tasha." The man said, waving to the blonde then looking at Ranma oddly. "Who's this guy?"

"We've got a new recruit." Tasha explained, pointing at Ranma. "Found him just wandering the corridors in the weirdest security uniform I've ever seen.

The man at the console smiled. "Well, glad to have you aboard, Mr…"

"Ranma." Ranma replied, without thinking.

"Right, Mr. Ranma. We've got an opening for a new redshirt on the USS Tian An Men, she's a Miranda class. Is that all right?"

Ranma blinked. "Um… sure, but this shirt's yellow." He said, stupidly.

"Don't worry, it's a pretty short posting." The man at the console explained. "And redshirt is just what we usually call ourselves, regardless of the shirt color. Now, I'll transport Tasha first, then you."

Ranma nodded, and Tasha quickly withdrew something from a slot on the belt that carried her ray gun, pressing it against her neck where it made a soft hissing noise. "Okay, the memory suppressant should take effect in a few minutes." She said, stepping up onto the platform.

"Have a good time!" The operator smiled, then pressed a few buttons. Instantly, Tasha was enveloped in an odd, sparkling light, and vanished into nothingness.

"What the…" Ranma gasped, gaping at the event.

"It's just a transporter, kid. Ours is a little bit beefed up, but it's pretty standard equipment. If this trip wasn't so quick, I'd suggest a tech course if you don't recognize one. Still, be sure to enroll in one when you get back, all right?"

"Yeah, sure." Ranma muttered, before looking at the platform distrustfully. Sighing, he walked forward, stepping onto the transporter and turning to face the operator, as Tasha had done.

"Take one of those Cardassians out for me, all right kid?" The transporter operator said, grinning and operating his controls.

"Card…" Ranma started, wanting to know what the hell a Cardassian was, before being enveloped in white light.

HR.

When the light of the transporter faded and Ranma stopped blinking, he found himself standing in the middle of a hallway. It was mostly colored grey and white, with a carpeted floor, and he could hear a muted humming from under his feet. Stepping forward and looking around slowly, he saw that there were doors all down the hall, small pads full of buttons set into the wall next to them. "Oh great, what do I do now?" He wondered, Continuing towards a window at the end of the corridor.

As he got closer, he noted that the window showed a star filled night sky, though as he looked through the thick glass he began to reconsider. There was no ground below the window, and as he looked up he saw an expanse of grey metal extending outwards. "Where the hell am I?" he asked, speaking mostly to himself.

"You lost, crewman?" Asked a cheerful sounding male voice, from behind Ranma. The pigtailed boy spun on one foot, still rather jumpy, to see a surprised looking older man with a black mustache. "Hmm, security, right?" The man asked, smiling.

Ranma, remembering that Yar had identified herself as security earlier, nodded. "Yeah, I'm just a little lost." He lied.

The man misread Ranma's nervous look, and smiled reassuringly. "Came aboard at starbase 312, huh? If you need directions, ask the computer. It's only supposed to be for guests, but I used it for my first month."

Thanks." Ranma said, and the older man smiled again before striding down the corridor. "Computer…" He muttered, and nearly jumped when he heard a loud beeping sound from his 'comm. badge.'

He looked around for a few moments, before a slightly nasal female voice spoke from the badge. "Please input request."

"Um, where am I supposed to go?" Ranma asked, willing to try anything at this point.

"Crewman Ranma, the duty roster specifies that you are to be on deck 7, in the security complex armory." The computer chirped back, obediently.

"Where's that?" Ranma asked.

"Please follow the lights on the wall." The computer continued, and then a set of lighting elements at about chest level in the wall next to Ranma started flashing.

Ranma shrugged. He felt vaguely like he was being lead around by the nose, but he couldn't really do much about it, so he started walking.

HR.

"Where the hell have you been?" That was the first thing Ranma heard as he stepped into the room that the computer identified as the deck 7 security complex. The annoyed exclamation came from a brown haired woman wearing a uniform with two pips on the collar.

Ranma bristled. "I got lost, all right?" He snapped. "Haven't been here that long, so back off, would ya?" He found his temper rising, but managed to bite it back.

"Crewman," The woman said, icily, "I suggest you be more respectful to superior officers aboard this ship." She was about to say something else, when the light strips that Ranma had been following in order to reach this location abruptly flared red, and an alarm went off. "I have to go, we WILL discuss this later." She said, running out of the room as quickly as she could.

"Wait, what's goin on!" Ranma protested, but the woman was long out of earshot. Looking around, he saw that the room he had ended up in was, as advertised, an armory. It was full of small weapons like the one holstered at his side, as well as several racks of larger, rifle like devices.

Sighing in annoyance, Ranma sat down at a desk in the middle of the room, and tapped a finger on the keyboard of a computer that was sitting there. The strange symbol, a circle full of stars with two leaf-like objects on either side, blinked off of the screen and he saw a display in English. Strangely, it seemed perfectly readable to him. "Tactical state: Red Alert. Two Cardassian Vessels on approach, weapons online and targeted. All security personnel, prepare for combat."

Ranma gulped. That seemed rather self-explanatory, even if he didn't know who cardassians were. As he thought this, the floor under his feet rocked, and a flicker seemed to pass through the lights. "What?" He asked, before the floor, or more accurately deck, rocked again, this time much more violently. In the corner of the room, a screen blew out with an explosion of sparks.

Cursing, Ranma shot to his feet, though he wasn't sure of what he was going to do. As if providing him with a hint, the computer spoke again. "Warning, Intruder alert. Unauthorized transports on decks 3, 5, 6 and 7." Ranma didn't need to be told what that meant, as abruptly a beam of light similar to the one that had transported him onto the ship shimmered into existence in front of him.

The form that materialized from the beam was most definitely not human. It had two strange additions on either side of its neck, like tendons that had been stretched from the shoulders to the sides of the skull, and its skin was an odd grey color. Instantly, it raised a weapon in its hand that looked a little like the one Ranma carried, and sent a beam at the pigtailed martial artist.

Ranma only barely managed to get out of the way of the weapon's line of fire, a sizzling beam of force flying past his left shoulder and blowing out another screen on the wall. Seeing that the alien was sighting for another shot, Ranma rolled forward, careening into its legs and sending it toppling forward over him. He heard a loud crack as its head met the edge of the desk in the middle of the room, and quickly regained his feet.

In the distance, he could hear the sound of more laser weapons going off with a peculiar high pitched whine, and frowned. He'd suddenly been thrown into a war zone. 'Shoulda stayed with the clones.' He thought, bending down briefly to make sure that the Cardassian he'd knocked out was still breathing before running out into the corridor. Almost immediately, he dove out of the way as another Cardassian came around the corner, raking the hall with fire. Most of it missed, but Ranma felt a burning sensation on one shoulder as he landed, and then rolled back into the armory. "Damn." He hissed, lifting a hand to check the nasty burn that was present on his shoulder.

He was reluctant to stick his head back out into the hall. Though he wasn't afraid of much, the beam the enemies' weapons fired seemed to travel as fast as the speed of light, and he'd only been lucky in being able to get out of the way of the shots before they'd been fired so far.

At this point, he was even considering trying to use the weapon he'd been given, but he had almost no idea how to do so. Unfortunately, he had no idea what was going on. "Computer," He said, the voice that answered when he'd said that before being the only thing that gave him any concrete information around here. Hearing the chirp of acknowledgement, he continued. "How many of these… Cardassians… are there on the ship?"

"64." The computer replied.

Ranma gulped. He'd only managed to take down one of them so far, and was still trying to think of a way to take down the one that his Chi sense told him was cautiously waiting at the end of the corridor. "How many other people…" He started, before he heard a beeping sound from the console in the middle of the room.

Walking up to it, he looked into it to see the woman who he'd seen exit the room only minutes earlier. "Good, I've finally gotten through to someone. The Cardassians are trying to break through the bridge's defenses. If there's anyone available down there, get them up here to help out!" She ordered, before a loud explosion could be heard behind her. Abruptly, the screen faded to static.

Ranma growled in annoyance, and then looked around the room again. It was full of weapons, which those people on the 'bridge,' whatever the hell that was, probably needed. Besides, he was supposed to help out the weak, wasn't he?

Grabbing several rifles and slinging them over his shoulder, the pigtailed boy spoke to the computer again. "Computer, I need directions to the bridge."

There was only a beep in response, and the wall lit up with its direction giving light once again. Smiling, Ranma cracked his knuckles and started to move.

HR.

During the next 15 minutes, Ranma made his inexorable way to the ship's bridge. He wasn't sure what a bridge was, really, but it had other people on it, which was a good thing. Strangely, as he went, the Cardassians seemed to be constantly sneaking around, and had managed to surprise him several times.

This had, so far, not resulted in any serious injury, but they had managed to singe off the end of his pigtail. That particular Cardassian ended up with a broken jaw. It was an accident… sort of.

The elevators that took people through the ship had stopped working when he was still on Deck 5. Apparently the crew had shut them off, but he'd found a set of stairs that ran almost straight up the center of the part of the ship he was in. He was pretty sure that the bridge was on the top deck, so he started climbing them. As he reached the top, he saw two more cardassians standing there. Cursing, he dove out of the way and ended up taking a header down one flight of stairs, while the Cardassians' laser weapons etched lines in the wall behind him.

Scrambling back to his feet, he tried to think. He'd used most of his Chi to down the cardassians he'd met on the way up here, and he'd never had to deal with two before. Reluctantly, he grabbed the weapon from its holster at his waist, pointed and pressed one of the buttons on its top. Instantly, a beam of yellow light leapt from the weapon's muzzle, hitting one of the two Cardassians dead center in the chest. Ranma quickly switched targets, hitting the other one as well, and walked out onto the deck.

He checked to see if the Cardassians were still alive, and sighed in relief when he saw that they were breathing faintly. Unfortunately, his brief inspection was interrupted, however, when he heard the sound of an explosion from nearby.

HR.

Captain Markus winced as he heard yet another explosion from the reinforced door to the bridge access stairwell. He knew that soon, despite the force fields and heavy reinforcement that covered the door, it was going to give way, and when it did, only he and his bridge crew would be there to stop the Cardassians from taking the ship.

They had secured most other areas, though he'd had engineering locked down in order to prevent access and they needed access to the bridge to bypass the locking commands.

As he heard the sound of another reverberating blast, the man considered the attack. He should have seen it coming, but the two Galor class ships had dropped out of high warp almost right on top of the Tian An Men, and proceeded to batter her shields down to almost nothing too quickly to react to. He'd sent a distress call, but the closest ship, the Archangel, would take another forty five minutes to get here and he didn't think he had the time.

He looked over to the access ladder entrance, where his chief of security, a Lt. named Cherenkov stood with her phaser drawn. "How long until they breach the field, Lieutenant?" He asked.

"Only one or two blasts." She answered. As if in order to prove her wrong, the door caved in at that moment, and she backed up to avoid the flying shrapnel. Markus and his entire bridge crew drew their phasers as smoke billowed into the room, but they were surprised at what they heard.

A shout of "Moko Takabisha!" came floating in through the hole, then another explosion and the sound of both Cardassian and federation phaser fire.

"What the…" He asked, surprised.

"I think we have our reinforcements, sir." Lt. Cherenkov said, sighing in relief. About a second later, though, two cardassians came charging into the bridge. Cherenkov took aim and downed them, without really noticing that they were running frantically away from something, rather than towards them.

A second later, that something entered the room. It was a battered and slightly phaser burned security crewman, with a black pigtail hanging down the back of his uniform. He had several phaser rifles slung over his shoulder, but strangely hadn't seemed to have used any of them. Removing one of them from his back and proffering it to the Lieutenant, he asked, "Now, anyone wanna tell me what the hell's goin on here?"

The bridge crew merely stared.

HR.

In another reality that looked suspiciously like a television producer's office, a man in a 2260s era Starfleet security uniform looked at the screen on his laptop, disapproving. Something had just gone horribly wrong in his timeline. The USS Tian An Men, a Miranda class starship that was patrolling the Cardassian Boarder, was supposed to be briefly captured by the Cardassian Union, then released at the end of the war. Now, however, its crew had somehow managed to keep control of their ship's bridge long enough for reinforcements to arrive.

He frowned. The Tian An Men was a ship full of his Redshirts, and someone had interfered in the vital role they played in the federation of this universe.

Focusing his view in on the ship, he panned into the ready room, where the captain was talking with one of the ship's security officers

"What do you mean he doesn't have a file?" He demanded, annoyed.

She shrugged. "I mean he doesn't have a file. He's registered as a Starfleet officer, even in the secure databases on the nearest starbase, but he's got no date of birth, no medical records…" She shrugged. "Nothing."

The captain crossed his hands in front of his face in a thinking posture. "That officer risked his life to get up to the bridge and defend us, and you're saying he doesn't even really exist?"

"Oh, he exists." She smirked. "Ate enough replicated food to prove that much. We just know nothing about him. My guess, he got recruited off of some backwater that doesn't know how to keep its records straight. Happens all the time with security personnel."

The captain, who had been in the sciences before switching to the command track, blinked. "Remind me never to enlist in Starfleet security." He muttered.

She laughed, but then became serious. "What do you want done with him, sir?"

"As I said, I want to recommend that boy go to the Academy. If he's that good, he should have a rank." The man said, simply.

"I'll inform Mr. Ranma, then, sir." The chief of security replied, and nodded.

Angrily, the god of Redshirts leaned forward and turned off his monitor. "Ranma…" He mumbled. "That's his name." Leaning forward and typing frantically into his terminal, he whispered, "He must be stopped."

HR.

Ranma crept through the simulated bush on the Holodeck, cursing her own stupidity for letting herself get distracted enough to get dunked into that river. It seemed cosmically unfair that water that really wasn't real could trigger her curse, but apparently Jusenkyo wasn't choosy.

The reason she was so annoyed, other than the usual fact she was once more wet and female, was that bright red hair made lousy camouflage in the middle of a thick forest.

Hearing the sound of some sticks cracking in front of her, the redhead immediately hugged the side of a tree and pulled herself part of the way up it as another academy cadet who knew a hell of a lot less about moving in a jungle than she did tromped through. Smirking, she leveled her phaser, permanently set to stun, and carefully took aim before downing the overly reckless participant.

Keeping track of the score in her head, she had heard three phaser discharges earlier. If each of them had hit, there would only be one more cadet running around. It would be an easy kill, even with her camouflage problem.

As she slid down the tree, however, her cocky assessment was once more proven wrong as a phaser beam sizzled past her ear, leaving a hole in the tree next to her. When she realized that she felt something odd on her neck, she reached back to feel that her hair had been forcibly taken out of its pigtail, and part of the collar of her cadet's uniform was burnt off.

Phasers set to stun weren't supposed to do that, she knew that much. Turning around, she yelled "Wait, that thing's on the wrong setting!" But the cadet, who had fallen prey to Ranma's tricks in simulations before, ignored her and fired again, blasting a bush about a foot away from her.

Thanking the Kami for lousy shots, Ranma looked down at her own phaser distrustfully. If the other student's had been set wrong, who was to say that hers couldn't misfire? Discarding it into the trees, she started to run towards him, rolling as another beam passed close by her, and ending the role in a spectacular high kick that connected to the boy's hand and sent the weapon spinning off into the trees.

"I told you," She growled, "That the phaser was set wrong!" To emphasize her point, she turned to let him see the charred back of her uniform.

The Cadet's face turned pale, and moments later the woods faded to the gold and black lattice work of a holodeck. The academy's wilderness combat instructor, an old man in a commodore's uniform, stomped in, annoyed.

"Saotome, what did I tell you about using close quarters combat moves in this scenario?" He barked.

"I didn't trust my phaser." Ranma explained. "Carter's went off on the wrong setting, 'n I didn't wanna barbecue him if mine did the same thing."

The instructor's face turned as pale as the other cadet's for a brief moment, and he quickly ran over to the side of the room, where the other cadet's phaser was now laying. Checking over the setting, he frowned. "This phaser did have its mode switched. It's a damned good thing Carter's such a lousy shot." He growled. "I'll see that I find out who did this."

"Probably just my bad luck." Ranma commented, but no one heard her.

HR.

"Personal Log, Stardate 42976.3, Cadet Saotome recording. I'm finally getting out of this place. The past two years have been the most boring, mind numbing experience I've ever had, but since I was pretty well without purpose when I got here, I guess that's kinda a given.

I don't really get the point of these log entries, especially since they won't be accessible by anyone but me until I'm long dead, but the guys above say I need 'ta make 'em, so here I am. I'm supposed to be graduating from the Academy in a few weeks, though I don't know how I managed to pass basic subspace mechanics. I pretty well just made up all the answers I wrote in.

I hope I get the posting I requested aboard the Tian An Men.. Since the Tendo Dojo doesn't seem to exist here, and actually apparently never has, it's about the closest place to a home I've got. After all, I spent six months there when I first arrived.

As for the academy, well, I ain't gunna miss it. It seems that every second day a turbolift's breakin down and dumpin me ten levels down, or one of the phaser arrays in the hall security system decides I'm good target practice. I know someone up there doesn't like me, but this is gettin ridiculous. Plus, if I never see Paris again and his damned water gun, I'll be perfectly happy.

Anyways, my shuttle up to space dock 1 is leaving in half an hour, and if I'm not on it someone's gunna kill me, so I'd better end this log entry and get ready.

Computer, end log."

HR.

"And where the hell have you been?" Ranma smiled as he heard the female voice say that, stepping off the transporter platform.

"Good ta see you too, Ma'am." He replied, performing a mock salute.

Lieutenant Commander Cherenkov just smiled. "Good to have you back aboard, Saotome." She said. "We've got to leave orbit soon to get to a Klingon Mediation, so I hope you've got nothing to do back on the station."

Ranma shook his head, then blinked. "Klingons?" He asked, smiling brightly.

"Saotome, if you get into another bar brawl, I'll…" She started, giving him a warning look.

Ranma looked down, disappointed, and muttered something too low for his commanding officer to hear.

"What was that?" She asked.

"I said it was just a friendly spar." Ranma replied, as the two walked through the sliding doors of the transporter room.

She laughed. "There ended up being four Klingons… with Batleths."

Ranma shrugged. "Like I said, a spar."

Cherenkov merely shook her head. "Well, no sparring this time, and that's an order. Now get to the security section and pick up your kit."

"Yes, Ma'am." Ranma replied, and the two parted ways.

HR.

"Hey, it's not my fault this time." Ranma grunted, holding back a klingon blade on the bracers he'd been given special dispensation to wear under the sleeves of his uniform.

Cherenkov, who was pressed against his back and holding off another Klingon, desperately wanted to throw an annoyed look over her shoulder at him. "You made fun of their hatred of tribbles." She growled.

"But C'mon!" Ranma said. "They're so cute!" He was distracted as the klingon in front of him bellowed, withdrawing his Batleth and swinging it back down, hard. Unfortunately, Ranma neatly took the opening that his withdrawal had presented to drop him to the ground with a kick to the knee and a blow to the back of the skull. After that, he turned to assist his commander with the other klingon officer.

"So, if it was all my fault, why'd you help me out?" He asked, smirking.

She merely glared at him while panting for breath. "You're annoying, but you're valuable." She replied, striding out of the room and leaving the two unconscious Klingons where they fell.

"Oh, and by the way?" She said, stopping herself at the door. "Cats." Seeing Ranma flinch visibly, she chuckled as she headed for the bridge to report the incident to the captain.

HR.

The god of redshirts picked up a small, clear plastic model of the starship enterprise that sat on his desk, and hurled it at the far wall. The model saucer separated on impact, though definitely not in the way it was supposed to. "Damn that Saotome!" He roared, pounding on the desktop.

He'd been trying for just over six months to get rid of him, along with the rest of the crew of the ship he served aboard. Their still being around was an aberration that would eventually muck up the time flow of the entire universe, and he didn't want to get the flack for that.

As he pondered ways to get rid of the meddling factor, the redshirt god heard his office door open. Through it stepped an annoyingly superior looking man in a gold uniform, the braid at his wrists identifying him as a captain.

"Something wrong… Bermhan?" The man asked. "I heard… a loudnoise… coming from your office and… decidedto investigate."

"I'm fine, Shatnar. Go manage your big plan." The redshirt god, now identified as Bermhan, said as he knocked his head against the desk.

"If… you're sure." Shatnar said, looking at the other god worriedly.

Bermhan's head shot up, and he glared at the goldshirt in clear annoyance. "Yes, I'm sure, now would you leave me alone?" He said.

"All right, all right." Shatnar said, quickly backing out of the room and closing the door.

"Annoying, interfering…" Bermhan muttered, and then got up, walking over to retrieve the pieces of the enterprise model he'd thrown. Shatnar was so superior, with his grand fleet movements, and heroic captains. Why, he was planning the biggest battle in federation history in only a few months, and he wouldn't shut up about it. Suddenly, Bermhan stopped, cold. Then, he began to smile. Within minutes, he was cackling manically and typing furiously at his keyboard.

HR.

Chief of Security's personal Log, Stardate 43991.4, Lt. Saotome Recording. The Tian An Men is en-route to intercept a hostile starship that's entering federation space, and I'm not supposed to be chief tactical officer. Commander Erickson kinda screwed things up when he transferred to the Potemkin, and a lot of stuff had ta be re-arranged. Commander Cherenkov got promoted to first officer, and she recommended ME for chief of security. I really gotta wonder what I did to that chick to get her that pissed off at me.

As it is, I've now got responsibility for twenty other people. I know they're redshirts, and if I botch things they'll just get recycled to another ship, but I've felt phasers on light kill settings way too many times ta think it's very pleasant. I'll have ta be sure to take as many of the security duties on away missions as I can, ta keep 'em out of danger.

As it is, we're headed to sector Wolf 359 to stop this unknown alien ship. Captain Markus didn't look too confident when he relayed Starfleet's orders… I don't like this.

HR.

The bridge crew of the Tian An Men looked uneasily at the massive conglomeration of metal and other materials that simply floated in space before them. The huge geometric shape simply defied belief. Sensors showed that it was several cubic kilometers in volume, and it apparently had the weaponry and shields to severely damage a galaxy class starship with almost no damage to itself.

"Captain, the Saratoga is hailing the Borg vessel." The OPS officer said, looking distinctly nervous at her station.

"Patch it through." Captain Markus ordered, leaning forward in his seat. As he and the other crew listened to the conversation between the captain of the Saratoga and the Borg vessel, Ranma was studying his tactical console and realizing that the whole ship and crew was likely doomed. To use a martial arts analogy, the Tian An Men was about as strong as Akane, as Federation ships went. The thing out there, it was a Saffron, or worse. Still, this thing was headed directly for earth, and the billions of people on it.

He looked up as he heard the last words of the Borg drone on the screen, some Starfleet captain that had been assimilated during the first stages of the attack. "This conversation is irrelevant. Prepare to be assimilated." He shuddered at the bio-mechanical monstrosity on the screen, and resolved that he'd kill himself before letting… that… happen to him.

"Captain, the Borg ships raising shields and firing on the Saratoga." He reported, his voice only slightly shaky.

"Sir, the Saratoga's given us orders to engage." The operations officer reported.

Captain Markus nodded, and Commander Cherenkov cleared her throat. "Helm, plot a firing run. Tactical, take targets where you can. Don't miss, Saotome." She threw a smirk to her replacement, and he bent to the controls of his station, carefully selecting targets.

"Martial arts starship combat." He repeated to himself, keying in various weak points that he saw, but even he thought this fight was hopeless.

HR.

The bridge of the Tian An Men was a mess. The captain was laying on the floor, unmoving, but no one had had time to check his vital signs, and the ship's four doctors were busy with casualties on other decks. It was still occasionally firing on the Borg cube, but the Saratoga and Kyushu had already been destroyed, and the Righteous had just disappeared with no trace several minutes ago.

"The Borg's status, Lieutenant Saotome?" Commander Cherenkov demanded, standing in the center of the bridge and glaring at the cube on the screen, even though there was a copiously bleeding gash on her forehead.

"They're passing right by us, and I think they've adapted to all our phaser frequencies." Ranma replied, only looking slightly better as he stood at the tactical station.

"They're ignoring us?" The commander demanded.

"No, ma'am… they've started beaming…" Ranma was cut off, as several Borg drones appeared on the bridge, and began advancing towards the crew. There were only four people on the bridge who were still conscious, but they all drew their phasers and started firing.

The first two Borg went down rather easily, but after that it took several shots for the federation officers to find a frequency that they hadn't adapted to. Unfortunately, several more Borg had begun to enter the bridge, both from the lifts to the lower decks and by transporting in.

One of them beamed in right next to Ranma, and he immediately delivered a spinning back kick to the side of its head, sending it flying into a console. "Huh." He muttered, surprised. "Figured they woulda shielded themselves from that." Smirking confidently, he leapt into the mass of Borg that were standing near the turbolift, who the phaser fire had apparently stopped effecting all together, and executed a round house kick that smashed into all of them, sending them stumbling off balance.

Unfortunately, it was apparently very hard to knock out a Borg, as the one he'd previously sent careening into a bridge panel had gotten back to its feet, and grabbed the ship's science officer, an ensign named Gomez, by the arm. Ranma winced, and fired a Moko-Takabisha across the bridge to slam into the Borg's torso. He'd tried to avoid doing that sort of thing ever since he'd entered Starfleet Since people kept talking about analyzing him every time he did, but this time was a special case. The effect of the Chi attack on the Borg drone was spectacular. The impact only knocked it back a few feet, but its entire body began to spark, and it twitched frantically for several seconds before falling to the floor, dead.

Ranma wasn't sure why his Chi attack had had such a dramatic effect, but it didn't really matter. Throwing open his arms, he began firing balls of his life force at the other drones in the room.

The rest of the crew just blinked, as all of the Borg in the room began to fall lifelessly to the ground.

"Commander, the Borg ship is out of transporter range." The helmsman reported, having briefly torn his eyes from the display in order to check the sensor readouts.

"Saotome, I could kiss you!" Commander Cherenkov exclaimed, looking around at the bridge full of dead Borg.

"How about ya just let me lay down." The pigtailed martial artist asked, before falling flat on his face.

Gomez ran over to him, and scanned him with his ever-present tricorder. "He's just asleep, Ma'am." He reported.

"Good." The commander replied, before walking over to the security panel and checking it. She sighed in relief when she saw that there were no other Borg aboard the ship, aside from the ones that had come to the bridge. "Apparently, they thought resistance was futile." She mused.

HR.

"Personal Log, Stardate 44214.9. Commander Ranma Saotome recording. Three months. That's how long it took them to find me a new assignment. Three months of sitting on my ass on earth, while they decommission my ship. The Tian An Men was apparently too badly damaged by the Borg attack, even though we managed to limp home after the battle. It's strange. I kinda feel like I did when I first got here, now. The place I've been for over a year now has been lost… again, and all I got to show for it is this lousy promotion. Apparently, the rest of the crew decided I deserved a reward for fightin off the Borg on the bridge. When I said it was a martial artist's duty, they just shrugged and said I was modest.

Considering I power my Chi attacks by ego, I sorta laughed at that. As it is, I'm stuck with the new rank… I wonder what my family woulda thought, three years ago, if they heard I'd become a member of the crew of a starship. This time, it's a big jump up from the old Tian An Men. An Excelsior class, name's the USS Crazy Horse. If I ever find out who thought the name would be funny, I'm gunna have to kill them..

Personally, I think Starfleet's nuts, but they've apparently decided ta put the survivors of Wolf 359 up as some sort of Federation Heroes. Yeah, the heroes of a battle we pretty well lost. Anyways, I'm supposed to meet with Captain Wright to see if I'm right for his ship. His Ops officer's words, NOT mine." Ranma was interrupted in his log entry, as the door to his quarters on Starbase one beeped for his attention. "Computer, end log." He said, before standing and going to press the admittance button.

He knew that most people just told the computer to let their guests in, but he'd never gotten used to that procedure. Once the door had slipped aside, he saw an Academy Cadet, only about four years younger than he was, staring back at him nervously.

"Um, sir." The cadet said, saluting. "I've been sent to escort you to the Crazy Horse."

"Okay." Ranma said, and walked back into the room. He picked up a picture, created through careful manipulation of the Holodeck, of his family and his former crewmates, and tossed it into a small duffle bag on the bed. Zipping it up, he slung it over his shoulder. "C'mon."

"Yes, sir." The cadet said, quickly starting to walk down the hall. As Ranma passed through the doors to his temporary quarters, they abruptly slid shut as quickly as possible. He shot a hand up, catching one and shoving it back into its slot. "Aw, now yer not even tryin." He commented, looking up to the ceiling and smirking.

HR.

Bermhan sat there, quivering. His eye twitched. It twitched again. On the screen of his small computer was the smirking face of Ranma Saotome, as he stood there and held the room's door open. The martial artist stepped out of the opening and followed his guide out of frame, and the god took in a deep breath, preparing to start screaming at the top of his lungs.

Only one thing stopped him. Just as he was about to cut loose with the most inventive cuss words 300 years of redshirts had ever come up with, from every corner of the galaxy, the door to his office swung open and Shatnar marched in, not looking very amused.

"What is it?" Bermhan hissed, biting back his fury for the moment.

"That is... what I'd like to know." Shatnar said, in his infuriatingly stilted way. "I find out that a... new command candidate's just fought his way up through the ranks and... you try to kill 'im?"

"What... what are you talking about?" Bermhan asked, now definitely losing his patience.

"Why Saotome, of course. Fine boy... as far as I can tell. Should make a fine commanding officer." Shatnar said, happily.

Bermhan quickly checked the records on his computer screen, and saw that Ranma had, indeed, been moved out of his jurisdiction and into Shatnar's. He was about to curse and scream again, but then he thought about it. If Saotome was as good at thwarting Shatnar as he had been at thwarting him... The god of redshirts looked at Shatnar with a false apologetic look. "I'm sorry Shatnar, I must have gotten my files mixed up. I hope he's all right." He said, concerned.

"Oh... yes, he's fine." Shatnar said. He was surprised. He'd gotten the distinct impression that Bermhan didn't like him very much over the centuries, but he truly did sound sorry. "It's no problem. Just try not to... do it again, all right?"

"Of course." Bermhan said, smiling genuinely. "I'll just leave Mr. Saotome to you from now on, all right?"

Shatnar nodded, and turned to go. "Thanks." He said, and walked out the door, pulling it closed behind him.

"Oh, no thanks are necessary." Bermhan said, before starting to laugh with manic glee.

END.


	2. Drydock

Hello again, folks. Well, you didn't seem to mind me leaping out to the edge of "Holy crap that's weird" last time, and given that slightly less shaky footing, I feel that I may, somehow, be able to pull off a Trek Fanfic.

There are a set of notes at the end of this chapter that I would like you to read, if you don't mind, but to avoid much more delay here, I shall shut up after saying one more thing.

That thing is this. Because someone pointed out that there are only 6 Galaxy Class ships built, and at least 1 is destroyed, by 2367, Ranma is now serving aboard the USS Crazy Horse, an Excelsior class starship. This and a few other minor modifications have been made to chapter 1.

Anyways, shutting up now. Enjoy the fic.

"Drydock."

Ranma walked through the corridors of earth starbase 1, not sure what to expect from his new assignment. He'd read specifications on the Excelsior Class, but the numbers all just seemed far too ridiculous to take seriously. Over 700 people and more than twice the size of the Tian An Men? When he'd lived in Nerima, he' found it hard to believe that there were aircraft carriers that large, and now he was walking down a hall in order to transfer over to a starship, one that flew through space.

He was jerked out of his musings when his guide turned down a corridor, and Ranma walked into a hall with glass, no, he corrected himself, probably transparent aluminum, windows that looked out onto the docking facility inside of the giant mushroom cap of the base. There, right in front of him, he saw the expanse of the USS Crazy Horse's saucer section, the registry letters clearly visible on an identification plate next to the airlock that the corridor was connected to. "Wow…" he muttered, stopping and gawking for a few minutes.

"Sir, are you coming?" His cadet guide asked, clearly slightly amused.

"Sorry, cadet." Ranma replied. "Just never seen one 'o these big ships up close before."

The cadet smiled. "The first time I saw the Enterprise," He explained, "I stared at her for about half an hour."

After Ranma had gotten his fill of looking at the outside of the ship, he nodded to the cadet. "We can get goin now, don't wanna waste yer whole afternoon." He said.

"Well, this is actually as far as I go." The boy said. "Captain Wright wants to see you in about half an hour." He reached into a bag that Ranma hadn't noticed slung at his side, and handed a small data pad from it to the martial artist.

Ranma read it over, then handed it back. "Thanks." He mumbled, and then walked off towards the ship's personnel loading airlock. The cadet just nodded, heading back to wherever he was assigned.

HR.

As Ranma stepped over the last lock seal and into the Crazy Horse, he abruptly realized that the ship didn't look nearly as impressive on the inside as it did on the outside. Unlike the clean, compact lines that he'd gotten used to in Starfleet technology over the past three and a half years, he found a mess of components scattered out on the deck right next to the airlock. He supposed he was probably meant to make note of the mess and yell at someone for it eventually, being a senior officer aboard, but he shrugged this off. He knew that he'd get annoyed if a group of engineers told him how to do his job, so he figured he'd only yell if they didn't get the stuff picked up before the ship undocked in two days.

As he walked down the corridor, the junk thinned out, but he could see that a few lighting panels along the ceiling were burned out. Usually, this was a sign of battle damage, and he wondered what had done it. He was relatively sure this ship hadn't been at Wolf 359, though his memory was still a little fuzzy about some of the battle.

Rounding a corner, he temporarily forgot that train of thought, seeing a deck layout on the bulkhead next to an open Jefferies tube hatch. Walking over to it, he checked to see where the nearest turbolift was and was about to walk away when he heard an explosion from inside of the tube.

He jumped slightly, and then fell into a defensive crouch, moving slowly over to the open hatch and peering in. "Anyone in there?" He demanded, wishing that he had a hand light.

The first thing he heard was coughing, before a blue tinted hand appeared out of a cloud of smoke, waving it away as best it could. Ranma traced the hand up the sleeve of a uniform, and believed that he could see the shadow of a face in the smoke. "You okay?" He asked.

"Oh, I'm fine!" The owner of the smoky face said, in a voice that couldn't be described as anything short of cheerful. Blinking, Ranma offered the man a hand out of the Jefferies tube, and he accepted gratefully. When the strange man was fully out, Ranma was looking at a blue skinned being in a gold uniform. The man, or at least he was pretty sure it was a man, had a ridge of raised flesh running down the middle of his head, all the way from its bald top to under his uniform's neckline.

Ranma had been asleep during most of the academy's exobiology classes, so he had no idea what race the man was from, but he was pretty sure the plasma burns on his cheek were serious. "You're hurt." The martial artist observed, pointing to the man's cheek.

"Ah, it was nothing important." The alien said, waving off Ranma's concern airily. "I just overloaded one of the isolinear circuit panels, is all. Thanks for being concerned, though." The man wiped one hand off on his uniform pants, and held it out in a manner similar to an American handshake, but reversed, with his palm facing up and two fingers curled in. "Ensign Brex, Engineering." He greeted.

Ranma wasn't sure how to respond to the odd hand gesture, so he simply bowed back. "Commander Saotome, Chief of Security."

"Oh, uh, sir. Urm…" Brex said, sounding distinctly nervous as soon as he heard Ranma's rank.

"Don't worry about it." Ranma shrugged. "I'm just getting used to the rank, anyhow. I would like ya to go to sickbay and get those burns on yer face looked at, though."

"Yes, sir." Brex said, before bending down and retrieving his tool kit and then following Ranma towards the nearest lift. "So, um, sir, if you don't mind me asking, you're going to be replacing Commander Mirel?"

Ranma shrugged. "As far as I know." He responded, recalling that Mirel had been this ship's Chief of Security before being transferred to the first officer's post of another. It was odd, but Starfleet seemed to be giving a lot of random promotions after Wolf 359.

"Ah, well, good to have you aboard." The blue skinned man decided, after a couple of moments of thinking, as the two stepped into the lift. "Bridge." Ranma called out to the air, after Brex had entered his own destination of main sickbay.

About a minute later, after the lift stopped to let Brex out on deck 7, Ranma rode up to deck 1 and stepped out onto the ship's bridge. Looking around, he noted that the place was, like a lot on this ship, bigger and brighter than the equivalent on the Tian An Men, but it also looked like it had a lot of wasted space.

In a fight, he analyzed, a ship this big and bulky would have a bit of trouble with anything as small and maneuverable as his old ship had been, She was also slightly out of date, so combat against other ships of her size class wasn't going to be easy, either. The comparison sort of reminded him of his father. Big, bulky, and slow, but he was sure it could hit hard if it had to.

Dismissing these thoughts, Ranma stepped out onto the bridge, and started for the captain's ready room. Ringing the bell, he waited for a response.

HR.

Captain Wright sighed as he looked over yet another crew transfer request. This time, they wanted his science officer. Rubbing his temples, he reviewed the posting and had to admit that it was definitely advantageous for the woman's career. It wasn't, however, doing his ship any favors, and since the fleet's massive rebuilding effort had begun, right after Wolf 359, he'd lost about a quarter of his experienced senior staff. Damning the Borg for the loss of yet more good personnel, despite the fact that the Crazy Horse had been nowhere near the battle, the thirty-five year old sandy blond haired man took yet another sip of the caffeine dosed coffee that had been keeping him awake for the past three shifts.

As he set it down, he heard the sound of his door chiming. Grunting, he raised his voice. "Come!" He called, and the door slid into the wall, revealing a young man in a security uniform that looked like it didn't fit him terribly well. Much to Wright's surprise, the young man wasn't tentative or nervous when he stepped into the room, despite his apparent youth and inexperience. A sense of confidence seemed to roll off of him, almost as though he was producing it as a force.

"Hello Captain," The commander said, taking a seat in a chair in front of Wright's desk when he gestured for him to do so. Wright looked him over. He wore a quite odd hair style, his hair tied into a medium length pigtail at the back of his neck, and from what Wright could make out of his physique, he was in pretty good shape.

Pulling up the younger officer's file on his desk terminal, he looked it over one more time. He'd done so earlier, but it never hurt to keep up to date, especially in cases as unusual as this one. "Good morning, Commander Saotome." He responded, almost absently. "How was your stay at the academy for the command school refresher?" He asked, scrolling through the boy's record.

It was quite an impressive record, too, and that was about the only reason he'd even thought about letting Starfleet assign someone with such a small amount of experience into any position of power aboard his ship.

Ranma shrugged. "Command wasn't exactly my first choice of career track, sir." He said, and Wright internally chalked up a mark in favor of Saotome. At least he was honest. "I passed all of the exams, though, other than, well, you know." He looked down, ashamed.

Wright did know. He, and any other command officer knew all about what Ranma was talking about, but out of curiosity he pulled out the appropriate records. Ranma merely sat while his captain read his screen, but his hands fidgeted nervously in his lap, and Wright noticed that the younger officer was probably usually accustomed to moving around much more than he was now. Still, as he read the file, he couldn't help but be intrigued.

HR. One month earlier, Starfleet Academy Training Grounds.

Ranma frowned as he looked over the fence into the compound, his Chi sense noting that there were only a dozen people within its walls. The three other command track officers behind him waited anxiously for him to give the go signal, but he held back. He didn't like this situation at all. His instincts were screaming at him that there was a trap here, but he couldn't figure out what it was. He considered going in without the team in hopes of springing the trap, but he'd been told that this was a squad based exercise, and that if he did that, without properly utilizing his squad, he would fail the test.

That meant, of course, that he had to send all of them in, but he was going to be damned careful about it. Gesturing forward, he made a series of hand signals that informed his squad mates to stay close and low.

A few minutes later, Ranma was feeling much better about the situation. His group had only encountered two enemy scouts, and had easily stunned them. Still, there was still a nagging sense that there was something drastically wrong with this situation in the back of his brain. The last time he'd ignored a warning like that, he'd ended up with a Jusenkyo curse.

The team crept up to the side of the main building in the middle of the complex, a Trill by the name of Archis Dag hacking the locking system easily, and Ranma rolled in through the door, hitting the three people working inside with quick phaser stuns almost instantly. "Come on, just a little further." Another human student whispered, and quickly rushed over to the terminal in the corner of the room.

"Wait, you idiot!" The Trill hissed, trying to catch his headstrong companion before the other hooked his tricorder into the computer system and started the download. Sadly, this wasn't to be, and all four of them heard a shrill beep on their tricorders at once.

Ranma looked at the Bajoran woman who was the last member of his team. "What's happening?" He demanded.

She tapped her tricorder furiously, and then turned pale. "A concealed orbital weapons platform just activated and is powering up." She reported.

"How long?" Ranma asked.

"A minute and a half, maybe two." She commented.

"How long's that data transfer going to take?" Ranma asked.

The Trill smiled grimly. "They've really got us, Saotome. It'll take us one minute and forty five seconds. If we finish the transfer, we won't get out of here before it gets obliterated."

Ranma scowled. His instructions when he'd been given this mission, along with the other three, had been very clear. They were to assume that the data they needed to get was absolutely instrumental in saving the Federation from a major threat, but they had also been told, and Ranma made to promise on his honor, that their team-mates lives in the simulation were to be treated exactly as they would be in real life.

The three others looked to Ranma, who was supposed to be the commander of the mission, and he locked up for a moment. He wasn't sure what to do. If this were a real situation, the orbital battery would open up and fry them all in less than…. A minute and twenty seconds, but if they didn't get the data the federation, and millions of innocent people, would die.

A moment later, Ranma smirked. "Hey Archis, how do you transmit the data on that frequency we need?" He asked.

The Trill looked at him confused for a moment, but quickly showed him the sequence to type into the tricorder. "It'll take about twenty seconds to transmit, but it doesn't have to be hooked up." He replied.

"Good. Now you guys get the heck outta here." Ranma ordered.

The three others looked at him, unsure, but he met their look with a glare. "I SAID, get moving!" He demanded.

"Aye, sir." They replied, and quickly moved out of the central building, heading for the edge of the complex as quickly as they could. Ranma merely stood there, watching the tricorder count down to the end of its download, and tapping his fingers nervously. At about ten seconds to go, he started to bounce on the balls of his feet, and hoped his team had made it clear.

The SECOND the transfer had finished, Ranma grabbed the tricorder, and ripped it free of the terminal, taking several connection leads with it. He started running immediately, tapping in the numbers he'd been shown by Archis as he went. Unfortunately, his inattention cost him, as in the darkened compound he tripped over one of the enemy soldiers he'd stunned earlier, the tricorder bouncing out of his hands. It bounced on the ground once, but he'd already regained his footing, and only spent a step recovering the device. Bringing it up to his face, he saw that it read 13 seconds. He hadn't thought it had been that long already, but shrugged it off. He stopped running, however, when a white light engulfed him, and the world faded from around him.

When his vision came back, an academy professor was standing in front of him. "Congratulations Mr. Saotome, you've just failed the Kobayashi Maru."

Ranma just grunted, not entirely sure why the man was so damnably happy, before stomping out of the holodeck to meet the other three members of his team.

Later, he'd found out that the test he'd taken was a no win scenario. Later, he'd found out that one of his team mates INTENTIONALLY started the orbital cannon firing sequence. Later, of course, was when he'd tried it six times, and never succeeded.

HR.

"Quite an inventive way to get yourself killed, Commander." He commented, causing the black haired man to shrug.

"Just me, sir." He replied, evenly, before smirking. "Besides, I woulda made it out fine if the computers hadn't reset the time half way through my escape."

Wright nodded. "Mr. Saotome," He started, leaning forward. "This ship has been stripped of half of her crew, and I have to say that I'm not very happy about that." Seeing that Ranma wasn't interrupting, he continued. "Still, I'm sure you're a fine officer, and quite frankly I like your style. Still, if you could…" A slight twinkle entered his eye. "I'd rather you not lose me yet another chief of security on this ship. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." Ranma replied.

"Good." Wright said, and pushed himself up from his desk. "I've been waiting for an opportunity to get away from this paperwork all day, and the first officer isn't aboard yet. How about I show you around a little?"

"Sir, you sure about that?" Ranma asked, surprised. "Yer supposed ta be the captain, and…"

Wright cut him off with a chuckle. "Supposed to be, am I?" He asked, noting the younger man's more informal speech patterns when he wasn't quite as nervous. Seeing Ranma stiffen and reach to scratch the back of his neck, right below his pigtail, the man laughed. "It's all right Mr. Saotome, I'll just have to remember not to assign you to any diplomatic teams. Now, how about we get going?"

Ranma merely nodded, and the two walked out of the ready room.

HR.

An hour later, Ranma had to admit that he was impressed by the features of the Crazy Horse. She actually had a couple of small Holodecks, one of which he and the captain had just walked past, as well as some very complete science labs, and a security complex, on deck 7, with several holding cells and a half decent practice area. At the same time, he was a little worried.

The impression he'd gotten of the Crazy Horse when he'd first boarded, that of a ship that was being heavily repaired or refitted, was proving more and more true. He'd passed at least twelve open deck plates on this deck alone, and there were gutted computer terminals all over the place. "Sir, you said we were gunna leave spacedock in about a week, right?" He asked, as the two walked down a corridor with a single set of double doors at the end.

Wright nodded. "That's Starfleet's plan, yes." He answered.

"Um," Ranma said, trying to look for a good way to say this. Though his foot in mouth was just as bad as it had been years ago, he had figured out when it would be a VERY bad idea to let it go un checked. Still, he finally said, "The ship's half torn apart, how're we gunna be ready in time?"

Wright smiled. The boy was already including himself in the ship's crew. That was good. "Well, our engineering staff are good people. We'll be able to get out of here." He said, confident in the capabilities of his crew.

Ranma was about to comment, when the two walked through the doors they were heading for, and he stopped, surprised. The room he was in was impressive, but it wasn't what stopped him. He was standing on a platform, with several tables and what looked like a bar scattered around it. The platform was curved slightly, and with a railing running along the gap which revealed the lower level, about a deck below. On that level were several couches, tables and what looked like a stage.

This place was certainly unusual to find aboard a starship, especially to one who had been used to a ship where a waste of space like this would have been practically criminal, but what really drew his attention was the view from the several full deck height windows that looked out onto the inside of the dock.

He whistled, almost in-voluntarily, and the captain smiled. "Welcome to Eleven Forward, commander." He said. "No one knows what idiot gave it that name, but it's stuck through fifty years of service, so we got used to it."

"It's nice." Ranma conceded, watching through the windows as a Nebula class ship made its way through the space doors of the complex.

Captain Wright chuckled. "Come on, we can get a drink and I'll inform you of your duties aboard the ship until we leave dock."

HR.

Ranma and Captain Wright spent several minutes sitting at a table in the lower lounge, talking about Ranma's duties aboard the Crazy Horse until her launch. They seemed to be rather clear cut, actually. All he was supposed to do was interview the ship's security compliment, both old and just transferring in, for suitability, as well as accepting ship's normal security duties from the station's staff.

Ranma thought that he was doing reasonably well, and making an at least passably good impression on his new commanding officer. That was, of course, until someone on the upper level dropped their drink. Ranma's danger sense actually warned him in time to raise his arm, deflecting the glass that the drink had come in from smacking him in the side of the head, but the liquid had all spilled out on the glass's flight to the ground, and soaked Ranma as well as a small portion of the table.

"Oh, I'm sorry about that!" Someone, a male from the sound of them, called from the upper level. Ranma took a brief glance up to see that he had grayish skin, whatever he was. "Why is it always water?" She asked, though she noticed, as she wiped a little bit of the substance from her uniform's front, that it definitely wasn't water. For one thing, it was a lot… slimier. "What is this?" She finally asked, sounding slightly disgusted.

Captain Wright just sat on the other side of the table, looking rather surprised, for a few moments before replying. "It's apparently green." He contributed.

Looking her over again, he spoke. "You know, when I read about that in your personnel profile, I thought someone was joking."

"Oh, I'm sure some Kami somewhere thought it was pretty amusing." Ranma replied, before she could stop herself. "Erm, sorry." She muttered, blushing a little.

Wright shrugged. "Well, it's not really my business if you can do your job." He said. "Still, I'd advise you to stay away from Sickbay unless you have to. I heard our new Chief Medical Officer likes studying anomalies."

Ranma grimaced. "Great, not another one." She muttered. At the captain's raised eyebrow, she continued. "There were some medical guys in Starfleet Academy who made it their life's work ta figure out how the curse worked." She shrugged.

The Captain merely chuckled, before the comm. Badge on his chest gave off a soft chirp. He reached up, tapping it. "Wright here." He said, speaking into the air.

"Captain, Commander Tsung will be arriving aboard in 20 minutes." Came the voice on the other end, obviously an officer on the bridge.

"Ah, that would be our first officer." The captain said, standing up. "I will talk to you later, Mr. Saotome."

Ranma nodded, watching the older man leave, before turning back to the view out the windows.

HR.

"Personal Log, Stardate 44234.2. Commander Saotome Recording: The Crazy Horse is going to be leaving dock in about half an hour. I know if I were a more poetic person, kinda like Kuno, I'd say something about goin on an infinite journey, to go where no man has gone before, or something. Since I'm not quite that much of a wind bag, I'll just say that I think we're ready for this. I didn't really believe the Captain when he said that we'd be ready on time, but sure enough, the ship's been mostly put back together. Now, so long as we don't blow up when we jump to warp, I'll be happy.

I think I'm startin to see the wisdom of these personal logs. I can state that this first mission scares the crap outta me without having to let anyone else know it. I was only the chief of security aboard the Tian An Men for a day, and then she got almost completely destroyed by the Borg. That was twenty people. The Crazy Horse has seventy security officers, and I'm in charge of all of them.

I've never liked losing, but now… now the stakes are so much higher that it makes Nerima seem like a game… but hey, I'm Ranma Saotome. I don't lose, right?"

END.

Okay, now here are the long notes, generally explaining a few things about this fanfic's concept.

First and Foremost, anything past the last chapter is NOT, I repeat, is NOT Kadunta's fault. The blame lies 100 percent on me. If it's good, though, feel free to compliment him too.

Now, as to the fic itself, from now on each chapter will be one 'episode,' as in the series themselves. Unlike the TV Episodes, there will be two major differences.

First, they don't have a one hour time constraint. If a story takes two thousand words to tell, the episode is two thousand words long. If it takes fifteen thousand, so be it. A fifteen thousand word episode.

Secondly, since I don't have the time pressure that the Trek producers suffered from, there will be as few repetitive "Space anomaly swallows the ship" plots, and others of the like, as I can manage. Unless there's a good plot outlined for the episode, it will not be written.

Having said that, if you have a neat story idea, then by all means PM me. Do NOT leave it in reviews. After all, if you do that, someone reads them and I later decide to try my hand at writing the episode, it will have been spoiled for them.

As for the tone, the first chapter was really odd. This one was really dry. These are the two extremes of this fanfic, though hopefully, in the future, I'll be able to write episodes with a balance, especially since this one was only really a bridge.

Now, I shall shut up. Please review, even if you hate it. After all, if I don't know you hate it I can't stop writing it, right? And I do hope you've enjoyed the fic so far.


	3. The Hunter

Okay, here we go, the first actual 'episode' of the series. Let's hope it goes over well.

(Temporary Note: This fic hasn't been fully proofed by my beta reader yet. He would like you to know that the first few scenes were only quickly skimmed. Any mistakes in them are my fault.)

Well, on with the show.

Chapter 3.

"Let's start over again." Several dozen young men and women groaned at those words, as they lined up along the middle of a long, wooden floored room. Their gold and black Starfleet uniforms were a bright contrast to their location, a traditional and cozy looking Japanese styled Dojo, with a shrine to some people they didn't know along one end. "All right." Their instructor said. "Now, follow my movements as best ya can, and we can get outta here early, okay?"

"Sir, we've been doing this for two hours!" One of the officers in the line, a Bajoran man named Tarkin Misk objected, rubbing at one of his sore elbows.

Their sadistic teacher smiled. "Right, and next time I see you get thrown over a table by some random civilian, we'll be at it for four." He commented, referring to an incident that had happened two weeks before, when the Crazy Horse had been transporting colonists to their new home and a bar brawl had erupted. "I dunno what Starfleet Academy was thinking, teachin you people such bad hand to hand combat skills." He muttered, starting up a rant that the security crewmen knew well.

Just as the young martial artist was about to really hit his stride, his comm Badge beeped. He ignored the sighs of relief from his students, and spoke into the air. "Saotome here, what is it?"

"The Betazoid ambassador has arrived from the Enterprise, and the first officer and I are busy with other things. Please report to transporter room 1 and welcome her aboard." Captain Wright's voice came through the badge's tiny speaker, and Ranma could swear he heard… relief?

"All right, I'm on my way." He replied, before tapping the badge again. Seeing his men starting to walk for the door, he raised a hand. "As for you…" He started, and saw them groaning. "You've got the rest of the day off, enjoy it."

All of them smiled and began exchanging conversation as they left the Holodeck, followed shortly after by Ranma, who ended the program before he left.

HR.

Five minutes later, Ranma stepped into the Transporter room, thankful that the workout he'd been doing in the Holodeck hadn't been enough to work up a sweat. After all, he was supposed to be greeting an ambassador. As he thought that, he had to wonder if Captain Wright was out of his mind for sending HIM down to do this. He fought, he didn't talk.

"Sir, the Enterprise signals that the Ambassador is ready to beam over. Chief O'Brian seems to really want to do this quickly." The transporter chief said, looking down at her console and tapping it several times.

"All right, I heard the Enterprise's got a good reason ta wanna get going. Beam the Ambassador over, ensign." Ranma said, then watched the pad as a shimmering sheet of light deposited two figures on it.

One was an extremely tall man with pale skin, wearing a long black and silver robe and holding some sort of case. The other figure, a woman, appeared to be facing the wrong direction on the pad as she materialized.

"Um, Ambassador?" Ranma said, not really sure of which one of the two said person was, but knowing that he had to say something.

"Hmph, the nerve! Sending someone who doesn't even know who I am to greet me?" The woman said, spinning around. "I am ambassador Troi, young man, and I'll expect you to remember that!"

"Sure, I…" Ranma said, a little taken aback, as always, around an angry woman. "I mean, yes, of course Ambassador. I'm sorry, but the arrangements for transferring you aboard were pretty sudden, and…"

Ambassador Troi just nodded, making a dismissive hand gesture, apparently specifically to shut Ranma up, and stepped off the pad. Oddly, as she got closer to the pigtailed martial artist, she seemed to stagger slightly. "Are you all right, Ambassador?" Ranma asked, worried.

"Yes, I'm fine." The woman said, straightening up and shaking her head clear. "Now, I trust there's been a suite of guest quarters prepared?"

"Um, yes, there has. Follow me." Ranma said, and started for the door.

"Oh, and commander?" Troi said, causing Ranma to turn back to her. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't think of me in such an… erotic manner."

Ranma just blinked, shooting a very confused glance past the woman and at the tall man who was just stepping off the transporter pad. He didn't respond, merely shrugging imperceptibly.

Ranma decided not to object that he hadn't been thinking of the ambassador that way at all, flashes of a table being smacked into his skull reminding him just how those types of conversations usually ended. "Yes, right… um, please follow me." He temporized, leaving the room with Troi and her apparent aid following behind him.

HR – The Hunter. – HR.

"Chief of Security's personal log, Stardate 44308.2. The Crazy Horse has been rerouted to take over the mission of the starship Enterprise, after their captain and one of their crew members went missing on a trip to a local starbase. I can't blame the Enterprise's crew for wanting to find their captain, and the ship's sensors are probably better for hunting down the shuttle than ours, but even so, it's left us holdin the ambassador. We are required to ferry her to a conference meant to open up negotiations between the Federation and a race named the Nicari.

Unfortunately, she's a Betazoid woman, a little older than my mother, I'd say, and she's pretty well everything I ever found annoying or dangerous about girls. She can read my mind, she's got more confidence than I do, and she keeps insisting I'm thinking about her. If she pulls a giant spatula or mace outta nowhere, I'm leavin. As is, Captain Wright seems to be avoiding her as best he can, and leaving her in my care. If I didn't know better, I'd swear the old man's trying to punish me for something.

Now the ambassador wants a tour of the ship, and I don't wanna foist her off on any of my personnel, so I'd better do it. This is gunna be one hell of a trip.

Computer, end log."

HR.

The chime rang again, and Ranma stood outside of the quarters, tapping his foot impatiently. A moment later, he heard an annoyed female voice come through the speaker at the edge of the door's frame. "Oh, come in already!" Shrugging, he reached forward and was about to tap in the code to open the door, when it slid open on its own to reveal the giant of a man who Ranma had seen earlier, looking down on him impassively.

Ranma wasn't particularly intimidated by the big man, though he was annoyed that he had to look up so far at him. "Ambassador Troi requested a tour of the ship." He explained.

"Oh, just let him past, Mr. Homm. I'm sure he's been wanting to see this all day." The annoyed voice of the telepathic woman came from inside the quarters.

In retrospect, Ranma would later reflect that stepping past the big man, Mr. Homm, apparently, and into the room after hearing that was incredibly stupid. Regardless, he did, and immediately blushed as he saw that the older woman was half way through the process of slipping on the top portion of a voluminous silver colored dress. "Sorry, ambassador. I thought you would be ready when you called, I mean…" He trailed off, uncertain whether to start running now or later.

The woman flinched again, as she had earlier, before slipping part of the cloth over her shoulders and turning around. "My dear boy, why are you so terrified?" She asked, her annoying manor slipping for just a moment to reveal honest concern.

Ranma quickly stiffened, his pride offended. "I'm not afraid." He said, In a knee jerk reaction that had been honed from years of training.

"Of course not." The diplomat said, and then smiled. "Now, there was a tour of the ship?"

Ranma nodded. "I figured we could start at Eleven forward on deck 5, and work our way down from there." He offered. "If that's all right with you."

HR.

"Computer, lights." Ranma ordered, as she walked into her quarters, pealing off the still slightly soaked top portion of her Starfleet uniform and tossing it onto a chair, not even caring that her Comm badge went with it. "Damned dolphins." She muttered, squeezing out her pigtail and actually managing to get a respectable trickle of water out of it.

The tour with ambassador Troi had actually started off pretty well, and the woman seemed to fall into a more interested than annoying role when they got to some of the ship's more novel or pretty sights. Well, truth to tell, the tour had gone well all the way through, other than Ranma finishing the last half of it as a female.

It was quite amazing how many different ways a Starship could find of splashing someone with cold water, though this time, Ranma had to admit that she had been asking for trouble when walking into the marine sciences labs on the tour.

Sure enough, one of the Dolphins who resided in the tanks there had greeted him with a flick of a fin, sending a large amount of water over the edge of the tank he was working in, somehow completely bypassing the containment field.

Ambassador Troi's questions after that had been EXTREMELY annoying, and Ranma had only stopped herself from strangling the older woman with the mantra that she'd lose her rank if she did. Flopping down on her bed, she contemplated going down to the nearest lounge for a glass of hot water, but decided that she could do it in the morning, and closed her eyes to get some sleep.

HR.

Mr. Homm leaned back in his chair, contentedly reading a good book as his mistress lay beside him. He liked it when things were quiet, especially when his mistress was asleep and he could get some good reading in. Right now, he was half way through a book written in the 20th century on earth, something about "Armor." It was quite an entertaining war story, though a lot of the facts were slightly off or outright wrong.

Looking over to the bed next to his chair, the servant saw that his mistress was still sleeping soundly. That was odd, he thought, since he felt that there was something wrong. Still, as she lay there, he couldn't see any signs of distress, so he went back to his book.

HR.

Lwaxana Troi looked around the small entrance hall she found herself in, confused. It definitely looked nothing like anywhere on the ship, at least nowhere she had seen before. Perhaps it was a Holodeck, like the one Jean-Luc always played those little detective games of his in? But still, why was she here?

Moving into the main room that connected to the hall, the woman saw a curiously low set table, with cushions around it, and a large monitor set on a table next to a wall. "Hello, is anyone here?" She called, using the much more common vocal communication method that most humanoids used.

There was no response, and the woman began to get a little nervous. 'Is anyone out there?' she thought, casting her telepathic voice out as far as she could. Almost instantly, she felt a response. Unfortunately, the response definitely wasn't what she was looking for. A massive wave of fear washed through the room where she was standing, causing the usually self-confident woman to back up, looking around fearfully.

Seconds later, she felt something coming down the hall that lead into the room from the other side. Whatever it was, it was radiating the fear she felt, along with anger, and pain at such a high level that she could almost feel it physically. Seeing a shadow against the paper thin material of the far door, the dignified Betazoid diplomat broke and ran for her life, the long silvery robes that wrapped her seeming not to hamper her speed at all.

HR.

'Is anyone out there?' Ranma heard the words, though he couldn't tell where they were coming from. At the moment, though, he didn't care. He was too terrified to worry much about odd words coming from mid-air. It was happening again. No matter how many times he tried to fight it, it was happening again, and he was being lowered over the pit by his father. He would be let go any moment now, and plunged into the darkness, where they would bite him and scratch him until he went insane from the experience.

He knew what was going to happen. He'd gone through this experience so many times that he knew EXACTLY when Genma was going to let go, to let him drop into the hatch that covered the top of the pit. He could time it down to the last second. In fact, Genma was going to let him go right… about…. "Oof!"

'That was different.' Ranma thought, as the giant hand let go of the back of his collar, but not in order to drop him. The balding man had apparently been knocked off balance by something, and Ranma found himself dropped onto the ground with a thump.

Looking around, he saw that Genma was gone, but another form was laying on the ground nearby, and it was shaking. "Ambassador?" He asked, recognizing the silvery garments the figure was dressed in.

The form's head shot up, and the older woman looked into the confused eyes of the security officer who had been showing her around the ship all day. "Mr. Saotome?" She asked, confused. "What are you doing here?" It was such an absurd question, since she didn't know what SHE was doing here, that it almost made her laugh, but she held it back.

"I…" Ranma looked around him to realize that the landscape had changed. He was no longer above the pit, but rather sitting in the middle of the Tendo Dojo. "How did we get here? This place shouldn't even exist here…"

"You know where we are?" Lwaxana asked, sounding very relieved.

"Yeah, but… the Dojo doesn't exist in this universe. We shouldn't be here." Ranma said, and then something dawned on him. "Am I… home?"

All of this almost totally confused Lwaxana, and what was worse, the blanket of fear she had felt earlier was still covering the whole area, making it impossible for her to read Ranma's emotions. When he jumped to his feet and started running for the door to the large, empty room that they had found themselves in, she quickly followed. "Wait, you don't want to go out there!" She warned, but it was too late. He'd already thrown open the door, stepping into a large yard area, with a small pond to one side.

"I…" He wasn't sure what to say. He'd given up on making it back to the Tendos and his family a long time ago, but now the compound stood right in front of him.

"Mr. Saotome, wait." Troi said, grabbing him by the arm. "There's something in there, and it didn't like me very much."

Ranma frowned. The Tendo house was right in front of him, but this situation was pretty weird, and the ambassador had been running from something. Still, if it was a chance to see his family again, he had to take it. Slowly, he began to walk forward, towards the house's entrance… just as something large and black tore its way out from the inside, trailing a stream of wreckage.

Ranma fell into a defensive crouch, as the black thing thundered towards him. He saw, however, that as it moved it left huge gaps of… nothing… in the ground, and though he couldn't get a clear look at the thing his danger sense was screaming that it was more powerful than Saffron.

Looking between it and the ambassador, who had gone catatonic for some reason, Ranma's mind quickly rationalized that he wasn't running away, just getting an innocent out of the way of a battle. Dashing over, he grabbed the older woman around the waist and shoulders, and jumped to the top of the wall.

The creature altered course to follow, but it was slower than he was, and he managed to get many roofs away… before everything changed. Suddenly, he was on a descending arc into the side of a corridor. Changing his trajectory in mid-air, he landed with his feet against the bulkhead and sprang into the middle of the corridor. 'You are INSANE!"

Ranma looked down at the screech that had just pierced his thoughts, to see a petrified and shaking woman in his arms. "Um, sorry?" He offered, setting her down and scratching the back of his neck.

Lwaxana was about to make an acidic reply to such an.. insufficient apology, when the deck below them shook violently. "Where are we?" She asked, deciding to berate the boy later.

Ranma looked around, and then saw a conveniently placed window at the end of the corridor. Stepping up to it, he gulped at what he saw. Seeing that he had gone silent, Troi stepped up next to him. "Is that…" She started, very concerned. "What I think it is?"

Ranma mutely nodded, as the two stared out at the Borg cube.

HR.

"And why, exactly, didn't you report this yesterday?" Dr. Catherine Pulaski scowled at a young woman who was wearing a gold security uniform, her face crinkled in obvious pain.

"I thought it was just a strain and it would go away." The younger officer said, looking at the older.

"You thought a DISLOCATED shoulder would just go away?" Pulaski asked, and then snorted. "Sit down, I'll get some pain killers and then snap it back in for you."

"Thank you doctor." The security crewman said, slouching over to one of the sickbay bio beds.

"Now, I'm going to have to explain to commander Saotome that you can't be stressing that arm for a few days." Pulaski commented, carefully loading the Hypo-spray and checking the setting. "Lucky for me, he's a closet chauvinist, and won't particularly mind."

The crewman couldn't help but smile. Even if she hadn't had the sense to come to sickbay the day before, this meant that she would be let out of the commander's dreaded drills. Just as Pulaski was about to inject her in the arm, the door to the room slid open with a sharp hiss, and an extremely tall and pale man tromped in, a limp form over his out-stretched arms.

Pulaski turned, and then blinked at him. "Something I can do for you?" She asked, unsure of precisely how to react. The tall man didn't speak, merely nodding and walking over to a bio bed, where he placed his bundle. Pulaski moved up curiously, and looked down on the form of someone she recognized as the ambassador the Crazy Horse had taken aboard. Instantly, she drew a scanner from the edge of the bed, playing it over the still woman's body.

She was relatively sure that the ambassador wasn't just sleeping, since the tall man, she assumed he was Troi's aid, had managed to carry her into the sickbay without waking her up. "Hmm, isolated brainwave activity on several bands." She muttered, looking at the screen at the head of the bio bed. "How long has she been like this?"

The ambassador's aid just shrugged helplessly, and Pulaski sighed. "All right…" She said, resigned. "This is going to be fun."

HR.

Captain Wright stepped onto the bridge for the beginning of Alpha shift, running a hand through his hair and taking a quick look around. He saw the helmsman sitting and tapping her controls for occasional course corrections. The OPS officer was absent, but Wright had seen him finishing his breakfast when he was on his way up to the bridge. The thing that caught his attention, however, was that the tactical station was manned by a young Tellarite who normally took Gamma shift.

"Where's commander Saotome?" He asked, falling into the captain's chair and making himself comfortable.

"He hasn't reported yet, sir." Commander Tsung responded from the seat next to him. "Perhaps I shouldn't have dumped ambassador Troi on him yesterday."

Wright chuckled. "I'm sure that, despite Jean-Luc's warnings, she can't be all that bad." He responded, and then reached up to tap his comm Badge. "Captain to Commander Saotome. Report." There was no response, so he tapped the badge again. "Commander Saotome?" Frowning darkly, he turned to the Tellarite at tactical. "Ensign Sprint, go and get the commander, please."

"Aye, sir." The ensign said, turning to leave the bridge.

"Helm, ETA?" Wright asked, turning back to the business at hand and putting off reprimanding one of his senior officers until later.

"Seven hours, captain." The Helmsman responded, crisply.

HR.

"Okay, this is getting damned weird." Ranma muttered, though there was a trace of nervousness in his voice. "What the hell's goin on here?"

I don't know!" The ambassador replied, instantly. "You said you were home before, what did you mean? Do you know where we are?"

"I.. don't know." Ranma admitted. "This looks like a corridor on my old ship, and if that Borg ship's out there it's probably Wolf 359, but I don't got a clue how we got here. Maybe some sorta time travel or something?" He guessed. He had been told that there were dozens of ways of finding yourself where you weren't supposed to be, especially when you were on a Starfleet ship. Still, this was just plain odd.

"No, I don't think…" Lwaxana started, before the two were interrupted by another rumbling shudder through the ship's deck. Within seconds, a strange… shimmering… sound seemed to echo down the corridor, and four mechanical beings materialized from greenish beams of light. She stepped back, her face going pale.

She had heard of the Borg, but had never actually seen one, and seeing the sight now was not doing wonders for her piece of mind. She didn't even notice as Ranma shoved her against the window, taking up a stance in front of her. As he did this, the Borg drones who had appeared seemed to take stock of their situation, and find the two humanoids as the only interesting things in the area.

All four of the Borg started towards them, and Ranma reached for his phaser. Almost instantly, his hand came in contact with the silken material of a red shirt where his belt holster was supposed to be, and it dawned on him for the first time that he wasn't wearing his uniform, but rather his old Chinese clothes.

Grunting in annoyance, he stretched out an arm, launching a Chi blast into the nearest Borg. The drone stumbled backwards, its body sparking, and Ranma took aim at another drone. This time, however, when his blast hit, a greenish force-field appeared to block it.

He gulped nervously, and tried to launch another Chi attack, only to find the same force field blocking it from hitting. When the next Borg reached hand-to-hand range, Ranma hit it with a vicious straight punch, sending it flying back, and he smirked. "Can't adapt to that, can you?" He called, his confidence seeming to return. Unfortunately, he was proven wrong, when he launched another blow… and the third Borg raised an arm, catching his hand in its own with apparent ease. He tried with the other arm, only to obtain the same results.

As the fourth and final Borg raised its arm and tubes shot out towards Ranma's neck, he yelled "Ambassador, run!" …but the world flashed white before the tubes could come into contact.

HR.

Dr. Pulaski frowned at the readouts on her tricorder, tapping its buttons again to try and make things make sense. Still, the readings stayed the way they were. There was a Betazoid on her bio bed, in a coma for no apparent reason, and with a heightened mental activity level indicative of a dream. Also, by the look of it, it wasn't a very pleasant dream either.

This was bad, since the ambassador in question was supposed to be mediating an important trade conference in less than seven hours. "Try the neural stimulator again." She ordered, a nurse nearby quickly nodding and walking to a console on the wall.

"No effect." The nurse said. "The first time, it caused some distortion, but now… nothing."

"Damn it." Pulaski mumbled, studying the readouts. This made almost no sense. As she thought that, the doors to the room hissed open again, and an almost exact duplicate of the scene that had taken place thirty minutes earlier happened again, this time with a security officer holding an obviously unconscious redhead.

"Let me guess, she won't wake up." The doctor said, rubbing her temples.

The Tellarite blinked in slight surprise. "Yes.. how did you know?"

"We may have a problem here…" Pulaski replied, desperately wishing she'd had a cup of coffee this morning.

HR.

"Captain's log, stardate 44310.9. Next time I volunteer to take a mission from Picard, I think I'll have the computer replay this mission log. We're only 6 hours away from an important diplomatic conference, and our delegate and my Chief of Security are now in comas.

Dr. Pulaski informs me that this was likely an isolated incident, and that there isn't a virus loose on the ship, but even though the rest of my crew are not likely to end up in a similar state, this situation is grim. The Nicari value the forthrightness of emotion, such as in body language, so much that they actually demanded a telepathic diplomat, specifically so that we couldn't possibly misunderstand them. There are a few Vulcans on my crew, but it's doubtful that the Nicari ambassador will much like having to keep in constant contact, and I'm sure the Vulcan crewmen wouldn't like me for the suggestion either.

For the moment, all I can do is hope that the doctor can find a way to wake ambassador Troi up before we reach Nicaren space, or at least before the beginning of the talks. Until then, I'm brushing up on non-verbal communication…

Computer, end log."

HR.

"Are you waiting for something?" The cool female voice caused Ranma to open her eyes, surprised that she wasn't feeling the stinging of a Borg drone's assimilation tubules piercing her neck. She was about to ask what the owner of the voice was talking about, when she realized that she was staring at her own legs. The world rushed in around her, and she found herself kneeling on the Tendo dojo's floor, her hands clenched around a knife blade that was pointed at her abdomen.

She let her vision drift up, seeing the grim face of her mother. She wanted to cry out in happiness, finally having seen a member of her family again, but the call died in her throat as she saw that the older woman wore a white Kimono, and held her unsheathed sword in one hand. Looking to the side, she saw her father sitting next to her, the blade of a small tanto knife buried into his stomach, and behind him, the horrified face of Ambassador Lwaxana Troi as she stood at the entrance to the Dojo.

"Well, are you going to prove at least SLIGHTLY honorable, even though you can never be a man, or will I have to perform the finishing stroke now?" Ranma's mother's voice came again, and the martial artist returned her eyes to the blade in her hands.

She didn't know why, but she felt compelled. She HAD to finish the scene that was started, if only because her mother wouldn't finish Genma off until Ranma went through with the ritual, and she could hear the old man whimpering in pain. Plunging the blade towards her body, she prepared for the pain… when she heard the thump of feet on floor, and someone knocked her over and away from the blade.

Ranma blinked in surprise when she saw that it had been the ambassador who had jolted her out of almost slitting her stomach. "What in the name of the holy rings is going on here?!" She demanded, dusting off the floral print Kimono that her dress had become when the scene had changed.

"Whoever you are, you're interfering with family business." Nodoka Saotome said, scowling at the interloper on the private ceremony.

"Family?" Troi asked, throwing a confused look to Ranma.

"She's my mother." Ranma replied, climbing to her feet from where the older woman had knocked her.

"Your moth… That… she is…" Troi's face was turning redder by the moment, as she began to stutter. "Your MOTHER was going to allow you to kill yourself, and HELP?" For some reason, this seemed to strike a cord in the black haired woman. "How could you do something like that to your son?"

"This is none of your business, Gaijin." Nodoka said, coolly.

"Mr. Saotome…" Troi gave the obviously female martial artist an odd look before continuing, "…may be one of the most annoying humans I've ever met, but it most certainly is!" Troi replied, angrily, and grabbed Ranma by the arm. "Come on, you have to get me home before I can let you die!"

"Guh?" Ranma asked, watching her mother's shocked face as she was pulled out of the Tendo dojo.

HR.

Dr. Pulaski wiped yet another annoying drop of sweat out of her eyes, looking at the disheartening scan results from yet another test. "The electro-magnetic interference field seems to have minimal impact." She mumbled. "Well, that was my last idea… Time?"

"The bridge reports we'll be entering the Nicaren system in twenty minutes." A Vulcan nurse replied, immediately.

"Damn." Pulaski exclaimed, rubbing her temples again and walking into her office, where she slumped down in front of her terminal. The screen was currently displaying everything the Federation database had on Betazoid mental abilities and brain patterns, and none of it had been of any use. She'd thought that she'd be free of all the seat of the pants medicine she'd practiced on the Enterprise when she transferred to this smaller and older ship, but apparently not.

"You know, if I didn't know better I'd say these brainwave patterns were from a Vulcan mind meld." She muttered, studying the waveforms on the screen.

"Betazoids are not capable of mental contact on that level, at least not with those of alien species." The Vulcan nurse contributed.

"I know that." Pulaski growled, receiving a steady look from her nurse.

"I only wished to be of assistance." He said.

"I'm sorry, Tarek." Pulaski responded. "I'm just getting frustrated. Betazoids can't link minds with aliens, so why is the mental activity so similar with those two? I think I sympathize with what you said last week." Pulaski stopped for a moment, and then her eyes widened. "Last week! What you said, that's it!"

The Vulcan looked at her and raised an eyebrow slightly. "I said many things last week, doctor. Would you please clarify?"

"Last week, you said that Saotome gave you a headache! When I thought you were joking, you said that you were serious, and it had something to do with his bio-electrical aura…" Dr. Pulaski ran over to the bio beds where her two patients were laying, and keyed in a set of commands. Almost instantly, an image appeared in a sensor screen at the top of Troi's bed, and Pulaski started smiling. "I've got it!" She exclaimed. "Saotome's aura acted like an extremely strong telepathic signal for the ambassador's abilities, and caused a mental link to form that's very similar to a mind meld. I'm guessing that it was triggered through some extreme emotional state."

"So you know how to revive the ambassador now?" Nurse Tarek asked.

Pulaski stopped for a moment, and blinked several times before growling angrily. "NO!"

HR.

Moments after ambassador Troi had grabbed Ranma by the arm and started pulling, he found himself standing on a hillside, a blanket lying at his feet with a basket and a scattered variety of foods. At the bottom of the hill was a wide lake, mirroring the images of trees along its edges. "Where?" He asked, surprised.

"This is a lake on Betazed." Ranma's head shot around, to see that ambassador Troi was sitting on the edge of the blanket, still wearing the Kimono.

"How'd we get here?" He asked, still looking cautiously around.

"I've finally figured out where we are." Troi responded, slowly.

"You just told me, we're somewhere on Beta… whatever your home planet's called." Ranma interrupted, earning an annoyed look from the much older woman.

"No, I mean I know how we got here. Tell me, do you notice anything odd since we suddenly changed locations?" Troi waited, obviously impatient, as Ranma considered. Seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere, she then burst out. "Do you not even NOTICE that your gender has changed twice in the past ten minutes?"

"Oh…" Ranma said, sheepishly. "Actually, come ta think of it, I went to bed female last night, and didn't notice water when I woke up."

The older woman just sighed, and then breathed deeply as if to re-capture her patience. "Exactly. I think that you must not have woken up. In fact, neither of us have. I think this is a shared dream."

"Shared dream?" Ranma asked, then remembered an odd incident involving Happosai and some special incense. Basically, whenever anyone fell asleep, they'd been drawn into the old pervert's dream world. He shuddered, not wanting that to happen again.

"If you're thinking of something unpleasant, STOP!" The black haired woman said, snapping Ranma out of his train of thought. "If we are in a shared dream I don't want to be put in danger by a stray thought."

Ranma looked at her, sheepishly. "Sorry… but if that's what's goin on, how do we… wake up?" He questioned, tentatively.

Troi frowned. "I… don't know." She admitted, her pride in matters of Betazoid mentality similar to his in his martial arts. "My father told me it could happen with Betazoids under enough emotional stress, but… you aren't a Betazoid, are you?" She cocked her head to the side, actually curious.

Ranma shook his head. "Nah, I'm human."

She snorted as if to say 'yeah, right,' and then stood, beginning to pace around the blanket. "Well, if I were to GUESS on how we're supposed to wake up, we have to break whatever is connecting us… which, in this case, is probably your fear."

Ranma stiffened, as he had when she'd accused him of being afraid earlier. "I'm not scared o' anything here." He said. "It's just a forest."

"Not here." Troi said. "I'm not sure where we're here, but this is obviously part of my mind, maybe a sanctuary. As for you being scared, I personally wouldn't blame you if your mother was seriously considering killing you." She shuddered. "How a mother could do that…" She trailed off, turning her eyes to the lake at the bottom of the hill, and staring at it for a long moment.

"You okay?" Ranma asked, worriedly, snapping his fingers in front of the black haired woman's face as she stared off into the distance, vacantly.

"Oh… yes, I feel fine." She said, shaking her head, and then sighing. "Mr. Saotome… Ranma." She corrected herself, slowly. "I know that you don't like to admit that anything scares you, but I've seen it… at least, most of it, and what you're afraid of is pretty respectable."

Ranma grumbled in annoyance, but didn't say anything as he looked away.

"There's just one thing, something serious, that sent us running when this whole… nightmare.. started. It's bigger than the Borg, and bigger than your fear of your mother cutting your head off, though I can't imagine why." She walked over in front of him, and reached a hand out to grip his shoulder. "What is it?"

Ranma gulped nervously, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. It was as if ambassador Troi's mere talking about it made it come nearer. He could feel it, could feel the hillside suddenly starting to darken. "N… neko." He croaked.

"What?" She asked, confused.

"Cats. All right, I'M AFRAID OF CATS!" he yelled it at the top of his lungs, and if the clearing had the acoustics for it, the sound would have echoed.

Lwaxana Troi did her very best not to fall over in shock or start laughing. She'd been drawing on the little she knew about her daughter's profession for the last bit of her current conversation, and even she knew that after getting someone to admit their greatest fear to you outright laughter wasn't the best idea, but still… cats?

Saotome was small, but he was also fast, tough, and most importantly proud. He'd disabled two Borg, if even in his own mind, and he was evidently good enough at his job to be a Starfleet security officer like Mr. Woof. It seemed almost impossible that such a person could be afraid of cats. Trying to get her composure back, she listened as he started to talk.

"Starfleet's been counseling me for it for a while. Now, I can stand sitting in the same room with a housecat, but I still have nightmares about it every once in a while. I was havin one of 'em when you first showed up." He finished, almost in a whisper. As if his words were the catalyst, right after he'd finished speaking a black shape shot out of the water of the lake, trailing droplets that gleamed in the sun.

Unlike when she'd first seen it in the garden, Troi could now make out the details of the black blur. It was large, maybe about the size of a Federation shuttlecraft, but it LOOKED for all the world like a midnight black version of that android's cat back on the Enterprise. A giant housecat.

Still, she could see that wherever its feet impacted, its claws shredded the ground to pieces and blackness was left in its wake. As a result, she could sympathize with Ranma when he grabbed her in his arms and started running for his life.

HR.

As Ranma tore through the forest, Lwaxana Troi reflected that, if there wasn't a giant feline monster chasing them, and if they weren't going in excess of 100 kilometers per hour, this would be somewhat enjoyable. Ranma was far too young for her, but his arms were strong, and the view every time he leapt off the top of a tree was fantastic.

Unfortunately, her trying to make the best of a really bad situation was interrupted, as Ranma jolted to a screeching stop, landing unsteadily in another clearing in the forest. He didn't set the older woman down, but rather let her drop, and she glared up at him imperiously as she got to her feet. "Why did you do that?" She demanded.

Her question wasn't particularly answered by Ranma's pointing finger, but as she followed it she did notice a wooden decking laying on the ground, with a hatch constructed in its center. She began to walk up to it, but Ranma flinched away from it is if there were a force field between the two.

Kneeling down, the woman flipped open the hatch in the middle of the floor, and staggered back as the smell of rotten meat hit her. "What is this place?" She asked, disgusted.

She wasn't answered, however, as the giant cat that had been following her and Ranma suddenly burst out of the bush, lunging at the martial artist. She thought that he would be paralyzed with fear for a moment, but then sighed in relief when he jumped out of the thing's way… and straight down the trap door she'd opened.

She was about to ask the boy if he was all right, when she heard the rather un-mistakable sound of a hissing cat. Whipping around quickly, she saw that the black cat creature was pouncing to leap at her. "Nice kitty?" She tried, relatively certain that it wouldn't work.

HR.

He was in the pit again. It had happened so many times before that he knew it by heart. Somehow, though, this time it felt different. There were no cats. In fact, he wasn't even tied up. Still, as he looked up to where he knew the hatch that lead out was supposed to be, he saw blackness. "H… hello?" He called, cursing his own weakness for the quavering tone that his voice came out in.

"Someone else is here?" It wasn't really a voice that he heard. It was more a rush of feelings, a set of impressions, of curiosity, happiness and uncertainty that all came together to form the idea of the question.

"Who's that?" Ranma asked.

This time, the voice didn't respond to his question directly. "Am I going to be let out?" it seemed to ask, leaving Ranma confused.

"I don't know how to get out." Ranma said, his nervousness starting to recede a little bit. "Believe me, if I could get outta here, I would."

"Now, you know." The not-quite-a voice replied. "Trapped, darkness… getting closer."

"I… I don't get it." Ranma replied. "Look, if ya tell me who ya are, I might be able to help you."

"You, help?!" The other asked, its impressions very angry now. "You hunt me, trap me here… I just want to play." Its voice had gone from angry to petulant in only moments.

"Who… what are you?" Ranma demanded, for the third time. Oddly, though, this time, something responded. The darkness didn't exactly brighten, but he could suddenly see a tiny dark shape in the middle of the black. He almost flinched back, but his training with Starfleet had combined with his recent encounter with the giant cat to keep him under a bit more control.

"Why are you locking me up?" the tiny black kitten seemed to say, and it was so pitiful that even Ranma didn't feel much fear. "I only want to play."

Ranma growled, angry. "Only wanna play, huh? Then what's the big idea chasin me around?" He demanded.

The cat seemed to flicker, and suddenly, Ranma found himself standing in the clearing above the pit again, facing a rather astonished and annoyed looking ambassador Troi.

"This is entertaining, I must say, but can you get this… thing… off of me?" She demanded from where the giant nightmare cat was trying to curl up on her lap. Given that it was, as previously mentioned, about the size of a shuttlecraft, it wasn't working terribly well.

Ranma stopped, but instead of fear, an image of that pathetic little black kitten asking why he wouldn't let it out flashed into the back of his brain. He slowly approached the giant hell beast of a feline, and reached out to gently stroke its side. The cat immediately got up and stepped back from the woman it had previously been crushing. "I… won't lock ya up." Ranma said, slowly. "I promise."

Within moments, the world seemed to shimmer slightly, and Ranma looked oddly at Troi. "What's happening?" He asked.

She shrugged. "I'd presume we're waking up."

"Wha…" Ranma started, before everything went black.

HR.

Captain Wright looked directly into the face of a Nicari diplomat on the Crazy Horse's main view screen, understanding why they had felt that the Federation needed a telepath to read their expressions. The man's face looked almost totally immobile, and his voice was a perfect monotone. Wright reflected that this man would be absolutely vicious at poker. "Where is the ambassador?" The man asked, evenly.

"She's been delayed slightly." Wright said, quickly. "She should be here shortly."

"You are lying." The Nicari ambassador said, simply. "Perhaps the Federation did not heed our requests, and you are attempting to negotiate in her place?"

"No, no!" Wright replied. "Ambassador Troi's just run into a slight problem, and she will be here shortly."

"I hope that you are telling the truth. This time, it appears so, but we would not wish to begin negotiations with the Federation on the wrong foot." The Nicaren said, and Wright was suddenly very sure that, if the man had any expressions what-so-ever, he would have looked offended.

"Why minister, you are so impatient!" Came a slightly nasal voice from the back of the bridge, near its main terbolift. Captain Wright hadn't been so glad to hear that voice in his entire life. "

"This is ambassador Troi, as promised, Mr. Elith." He said, stepping to the side and then back, slumping into his command chair with a sigh of relief. "Note to self, promote Pulaski." He muttered, only loud enough for his XO to hear.

HR.

Ranma slipped off of the edge of her bed, about to follow Troi out of sickbay, when Dr. Pulaski grabbed her by the collar of her uniform. "And where exactly do you think you're going?"

"I'm fine, doc." Ranma replied. "I can go back to duty, and..."

"I had to let the good ambassador go, since Captain Wright is going to have a stress related heart attack if she isn't on the bridge in ten minutes. YOU, on the other hand, are going to be put through a full physical so that I can ensure that everything still works in that head of yours." She looked contemplatively at the redhead. "Well, at least so I can see nothing else's broken...."

The pigtailed security chief nodded only slightly, before sitting back onto the bed. As she leaned back, she heard a voice in her mind. "Can I come out now?"

With a slight sigh, she reached up and rubbed at the side of her head. This was probably going to be a long day, after a long nightmare.

HR.

"Chief of Security's Personal Log, stardate 44311.4, Saotome Ranma recording... The preliminary negotiations with the Nicari have been completed, and the ambassador is about to beam down to the planet to continue them. The Crazy Horse is to leave orbit afterwards, and Enterprise will take her back to Betazed. This mission's definitely been hard to forget, especially since it's left me with one less fear and one more annoying voice in the back of my head, though the cat usually leaves me alone so long as I let it out in the Holodeck every once in a while. This, of course, has reduced my own Holodeck time dramatically, but I can live with that.

As for the ambassador, I guess I've got to talk to her, at least to apologize for the incident. I haven't seen her since she left Sickbay yesterday. Still, I'm hoping that since she's too old, my usual track record with angry women won't come into play.

End log."

HR.

"Oh, Mr. Saotome, I thought you'd disappeared!" Lwaxana Troi said, happily, as Mr. Homm stood on the transporter pad behind her with her personal suitcase.

Ranma shrugged. "I just came to apologize for…" He started, but was cut off by the woman.

"Oh, nonsense. That was quite the adventure for someone like me." She said, and laughed as she saw that he was looking at her, mouth open in shock. Smirking, she continued. "Besides, I can finally prove to that daughter of mine that I'm pretty good at counseling, too."

"Um, thank you… I guess." Ranma said, unsure, but also knowing that the older woman wasn't, apparently, angry at him.

"There was no problem, dear boy. In fact, I don't suppose you'd be interested in meeting my daughter…? she's such a nice girl, oh, and that Mr Riker..."

Ranma just gaped, his stomach suddenly tightening. "Miss Archer, energize." He said, quickly.

"Oh, now that was ru…" Lwaxana started, before being engulfed in the beam of the transporter.

END.

Okay, about TNG continuity... When I know it, and it doesn't get in the way, I'll keep to it. I'm doing my research, and trying to keep things from conflicting, but I'm not carefully analyzing every line in the series to make sure I don't contradict something, and if I see a plot point I don't like, or can't accommodate, I'll ignore it.

This fic is ranked as a parody for a reason. I've made fun of Picard and Subspace mechanics already. I don't dislike Trek, in fact I'm a pretty devoted Trekkie though I'm probably put to shame by some of you, but I honestly am not trying to keep its continuity intact particularly hard in this fic.

That's all for now, folks. Please tell me how you feel about the fic, and any suggestions are, as always, welcome.


End file.
